CASTON
I am inactive haunted by this painting: Polish officers
on his knees, with his hands tied with a kick, dropped
After a gunshot to the back of the skull...
Prof.Vincenzo Palmieri
There were long twilights... nights and mornings...
The hot ash has been spewing for war days...
No one's always heard of a silent death in the woods.
And the white birches were already increasing on martyr blood...
Polish officers on soft knees
Hands tied with short rough rope
A strong kick from the bottom edge
They were falling into cold darkness after shooting at the back of the skull...
Some with a quadrangle bayonet wound
They lay to the bottom of a deaf and deadly river
With his coat on his head besides proud
Looking through deadly clamped eyelids...
And the nation was inactive bleeding... waiting for their help...
That they would come out of the war rush
A They transport in blind cars
They were going to die from the gulags of hope...
Kat was rubbing a smoking bayonet on the coat of history
A careful way covered the birch with peace
The planet was building a silent monument
And he enjoyed the falsely obtained room...
And within us, consciousness grows bitterly after years
Those days... that spring... God forgive them!
That they wanted to deprive us of the most crucial thing
That memory increasing in white bronze despair...!
